Coming Home
A response to “Love” by Bill Mack
Waiting,
counting the minutes,
hours,
days,
months.
Praying with every breath.
Waiting for a phone call from you,
or the awful letter from them.
8 months feels like 6 years.
Not knowing where you are
if you are safe,
or warm.
Fighting a war in myself,
while you are fighting a war for me.
Trying to be as strong as you,
telling the kids you’d be home soon,
when even I didn’t know if that was true.
Finally that day came.
I drove all the way to base,
past the other uniformed men
waiting for you to get off the plane.
Standing in a crowd of impatience –
Every man, woman and child
standing on tippy toes,
necks stretching,
eyes squinting,
breaths held
until that moment
when we each see the one,
The one that belongs to us.
Finally you came
pulled me in tight
muscles straining
head on my shoulder
tears in your eyes.
Trying to make up –
for every hug missed,
every tear shed,
every moment
you could not see.
I could not move.
but I could finally breath
knowing you, and I,
were safe in each others arms at last –
where we are supposed to be.
- Nicole Hagen
